


Near him I must always be

by Builder



Series: Whoa Bessie [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Seizures, Sickfic, Trans Steve Rogers, Vomiting, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: No matter now normal life gets, living with a traumatic brain injury is never predictable.Some days, Steve gets up and makes the coffee.  Some days, he sits with James when he has a seizure in the middle of the kitchen floor.





	Near him I must always be

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @Builder051
> 
> This is an AU fic that takes place in the 'verse I established in Ignite your bones. It's not necessary to read it for this to make sense, but it will give you a better idea of the overall situation I imagine for these guys.

Steve rolls over and stretches his arms over his head.  His elbow brushes James’s warm back, and he can’t help but smile.  “Good morning,” he says sleepily, sliding an embrace around James’s shoulders.  “Happy Saturday.”

“Hmph,” James grunts into the pillow.  “’M tired.”

Steve chuckles.  He lifts his head to peek at the alarm clock.  It’s nearly nine, but there’s nothing on the schedule today.  “No rush to get up,” he whispers, burying his nose in James’s hair.

“…good.”

They lounge until eleven.  Eventually Steve’s stomach starts rumbling, and he pushes the covers down to his waist before easing into a seated position.  “You feel like brunch?” he asks.

“Brunch?” James repeats.

“Isn’t that what you call it when you sleep straight through to lunchtime?”

James shrugs.  He pushes his hair off his forehead and sighs.

“You feeling ok?” Steve asks.  James’s sleep patterns are unpredictable, and he’s as used to easing him through a night of insomnia and nightmares as he is to waking him in the morning when he sleeps like the dead.

James shrugs again.  “I…don’t know.”

Steve palms his forehead, then leans in for a kiss.  “You don’t feel warm.”

“I feel…weird.”

“Hungry?” Steve tries.  His own stomach answers in the affirmative.

“Not…really,” James says slowly.  “Sorry.”

“Sometimes you’re so empty, you just feel sick.”  Steve swings his legs out of bed.  “How about I start you some toast?”

“I, um.  I guess?”  James sits up.  Wrinkles appear between his eyes as he squints at Steve.

“I’ll get it going for you.  Maybe some eggs, too, so there’s protein if you feel up to it.”

James doesn’t respond.  He stares blankly into his lap.

Steve smiles at him, then snags a t-shirt off the chair in the corner.  He pulls it over his head as he pads to the kitchen to give James some space.

He starts a pot of coffee, then Steve pours himself a glass of orange juice to sip while he prepares the food.  Soon the warm, yeasty smell of toast fills the apartment.  He smears butter on a slice and devours it before cracking eggs into a bowl and beginning to beat them with a fork.

Steve’s dividing the scramble onto two plates when James finally emerges from the bedroom.  He has a hoodie on over his t-shirt and boxers, the empty left sleeve hanging by his hip.

“Hey, just in time,” Steve says.  “If you don’t want eggs, we can save them for later.”  He pulls two more slices of toast from the toaster.  “You want butter?”

“Hm.”  James opens a cabinet and fumbles for a mug.  “Coffee first.”

“How could I forget, you’re a coffee first kind of guy.”  He gives James a playful pinch to the waistband.  “I’ll get it, Buck.  Why don’t you go sit down?”

James doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t move, either.  He tenses under Steve’s touch, and his knuckles go white around the handle of the mug clenched in his grasp.

“Buck?  You ok?”  Steve leans around him to peer into James’s eyes.  There’s a split second of connection, then James’s eyelids flutter and he starts to fall.

The mug hits the floor first and smashes, then James crumples.  He goes down on one knee and his stump shoulder, then remains on his side as the seizure takes hold.

Steve hurriedly sweeps the shards of broken ceramic to the side with his bare foot, then sinks into a crouch at James’s side.  He’s been trained on the basics for situations like this, but it’s the first time he’s seen it happen.  Steve hovers his hands an inch over James’s quivering arm.  He knows he shouldn’t touch him.   It’s hard to fight the instinct to provide physical comfort.

“It’s ok, Bucky,” he whispers.  “You’re gonna be ok, just hold on.”

A guttural groan escapes between James’s clenched teeth.  Steve isn’t sure if it’s a response to his words, but he keeps murmuring encouragements.  “Yep.  It’s ok.  I’m right here, Buck, alright?”

It seems like the seizure lasts forever, though it can’t be more than a minute.  It occurs to Steve that he should probably count the seconds, but by the time he starts, James’s taught muscles begin to relax.  He lets out a soft whimper, and Steve promptly loses his place.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve breathes.

“Hmm.”  James’s shoulders twitch.  At first Steve thinks it’s an aftershock of the tremors moving through his body, but a wet noise comes from his throat and he vomits onto the floor.

Steve slides around to the other side of James’s head so he’s not kneeling in the mess and gently holds his arm with one hand while he smooths James’s hair back with the other.  He only has bile to purge, and the heaves quickly turn dry.  “It’s ok,” Steve intones.  “You’re ok.”

“Hmm.”  James’s lashes flutter, and he turns his head a fraction of an inch to look up at Steve.

“Hey.”  Steve feels his cheeks turn up in a grin.  “There you are.”

“Steve…”  James works to push the word out.

“Shhh, it’s ok.”  Steve pats his shoulder.  “You had a seizure.  Do you, uh, think you’re back with me?”

“Um.  Y-yeah.”  His voice is rough, but there’s recognition in James’s eyes.

“Good.”  Steve pushes sweaty hair from James’s forehead.

James plants his hand on the floor in front of him and starts to push up.  His elbow trembles with the effort.  Steve wraps his arms around James’s chest to support him.  “There you go.”

As soon as he’s upright, James’s shoulders lurch forward as he gags again.  “Ffffuck,” he breathes, turning his head to dab his lips on his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” Steve says sympathetically.

“I…don’t feel good.”

“I know.  I’m sorry, Buck.”  Steve holds him up as James coughs weakly.  “When you think you can stand up, I’ll help you go lie on the couch. Then I’ll give your doctor a call…”  Steve’s thinking out loud, but he quiets when James slides his shaking hand over Steve’s.

“Steve,” he rasps.

“Yeah?”

“I just…you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“…good.”


End file.
